Chapter Text
Chapter Nine
It was a very good thing that Hobbits required less sleep than other races did in order to function, because otherwise Bella would never have been able to drag herself out of her warm and cozy bed the next morning. Certain that Thorin would prefer to sleep on for a while longer, Bella remained quiet as she slipped out of his arms and the bed that they had been sharing for several weeks now. Just to sleep, mind you, because, despite what Bella had allowed her brothers to believe, she and Thorin had not been intimate in the way that lovers were since their original stay in Lake-town; neither of them wished to rush into such things this time around but enjoyed the comfort that holding each other in the night brought. Bella wandered into her kitchen to make a pot of raspberry jasmine tea, one of several lovely blends that Bella had received as a gift from the Queen of Rohan a week earlier, when an convoy of foodstuffs arrived in Erebor from the other kingdom, and found Bombur’s eldest daughter, Nína, perched on top of her table, swinging her feet back and forth as she played with a handful of toys.
“Good morning, Auntie Bells,” Nína greeted cheerfully, setting her dolls aside, “Can I have some joy cake please?”
“So early?” Bella asked, though there was no censure of any kind to be found in the words.
“I’ll need lots of energy to stay awake all the way until tonight, Auntie Bells,” Nína informed her sagely.
“I suppose it’ll be alright,” Bella conceded, moving to fetch one of the Llawenydd cakes that she had prepared several days earlier from the pantry, “As long as you drink some tea with me.”
“With honey and cream?” Nína questioned eagerly.
“Of course,” Bella agreed with a smile.
“Oh, goody,” Nína cheered.
Thick slices of cake served and the sweet tea poured, Bella spoke again, “How do you like Erebor?”
“It’s much nicer than the Blue Mountains,” Nína told her, licking honey off of her spoon, “I have my own bedroom and lots of pretty toys and Adad is much, much, much happier now too. So is Amad; she really likes being one of Princess Dís’ ladies-in-waiting. Why don’t you have any ladies-in-waiting, Auntie Bells?”
“I don’t know many of the Dwarrowdams in the Mountain very well yet,” Bella replied as she stirred cream into her tea.
“Lady Bliní spoke to you a lot last night,” Nína said, “Is she gonna be one of your ladies-in-waiting?”
“I do not believe that she and I would mesh well together,” Bella answered diplomatically. “I’m quite certain that there are many other posts in the Mountain that she would find more gratifying.”
Which was the polite way of stating that Bella would allow Bliní, daughter of the Lord Blan, to be such an integral part of her life when the land of Mordor froze over. Bella had not been in the Dwarrowdam’s presence for five minutes before Bliní’s hatred of Elves and Men had become painfully evident. Bella strongly suspected that the conceited dwarrowdam had no love of Hobbits either, though Bliní would not dare admit to such a thing in Bella’s presence. Bliní’s reasons for following Bella around the night before had nothing to do with her wishing to get to know the Queen-to-be and everything to do with her to get a chance to insinuate herself in Fíli’s life, whom Bliní evidently held a torch for. So, no, Bliní would not find herself being asked to become one of Bella’s ladies-in-waiting, not ever.
“Okay,” Nína shrugged in an insouciant manner, sticky crumbs catching in the ginger-colored peach fuzz that lined her cheeks, “Adad said that you’re working on a tapestry that shows the dragon being slain by the Prince. Can I see it?”
“I can fetch it for you to see after we finish eating, if you like,” Bella replied, “I finished it two days ago.”
“Was Smaug very scary?” Nína wondered, “Uncle Bo said that he was like a furnace with wings.”
“Uncle Bo seems to be rather fond of that description, doesn’t he?” Bella quipped in a dry tone and then said, “Smaug was both frightening and powerful; he was beautiful too, in a devastating kind of way. I would not recommend that you ever seek out any dragons, little one.”
“Did you really trick the dragon into looking at you so that Kíli could shoot him?” Nína questioned.
“She did,” Thorin was the one who answered, standing in the doorway of the kitchen and looking ridiculously handsome for someone who had just rolled out of bed. “When our original plan to drown the beast in molten gold failed, your aunt enraged the beast so much with clever words that he reared up on his hind legs, giving Kíli the opportunity to send a black-tipped arrow straight into Smaug’s heart.”
“Freeing Erebor from the reign of the wicked dragon,” Nína finished, her eyes alight with admiration.
“Yes,” Thorin nodded gravely, entering the kitchen and taking a seat beside Bella, “On this very day, one year ago.”
“Were you afraid?” Nína wished to know as Bella poured Thorin a cup of tea.
“Only a fool does not fear a dragon,” Thorin answered, accepting the beverage and caressing Bella’s fingers with his own in thanks for it.
“Uncle Bo and Uncle Bif are going to sell stuffed dragons that look like Smaug in their shop,” Nína announced.
Thorin blinked and looked at Bella, “Remind me to write an edict forbidding that.”
“I will do no such thing,” Bella returned wryly. “After all, all those ‘King Thorin’ toys they’re making will need something to fight.”
“King Thorin toys?” Thorin echoed, aghast.
“Don’t look so mortified, darling,” Bella rejoined, “There are going to be ‘Bella’ toys too.”
“I suppose that’s not so bad,” Thorin decided, “As long as all those 'Thorins' have a 'Bella' by their sides; they’ll be terribly lost otherwise.”
“You are a sap,” Bella declared, leaning over to kiss him.
“You taste like raspberries and honey, Ghivashel.” Thorin said when Bella had pulled back.
Bella giggled, “That’s exactly the same thing you told me the first time we kissed, you know.”
“I remember,” Thorin murmured.
While in Lake-town, Bombur had cooked several raspberry pies, to celebrate Bella no longer being ill, and Bella, her appetite finally restored after the long weeks spent in Mirkwood, had eaten several slices with honeyed tea. Thorin had kissed her that night, had made love to her for the first time that night too.
Nína sighed happily, “Was it a kiss of true love? Like in the fairy tales?”
Thorin’s eyes never strayed from Bella as he responded absolutely, “Yes, little one, it was.”
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“The tapestry is beautiful, Bél,” Fíli praised, as he spun her around on the dance floor in the Emùzel Emnithaz, “And it deserves the place that Thorin gave it in the Gallery of the Kings.”
The dance was Dwarven, which was to be expected, and one of only two of that kind that Bella knew. Fíli and Kíli had taught it to her in Rivendell, in one of their attempts to show her that Dwarves were much more fun than Elves were. It was exhilarating, and Bella would have feared becoming overheated, especially since she was wearing so many layers of golden silk and an ornate, gilded mask, (Dís had suggested making the Day of Dragon’s Reckoning Festival a masquerade in order to distinguish it from the one held the day before and everyone had loved the idea), but the festival chamber was quite cool, kept that way by an ingenious pipe system that sent ice-cold water rushing through the walls.
“I think that Kíli is a bit flustered by all the attention it has garnered for him though, especially from the Lords’ daughters,” Bella replied, “He’s been all but hiding behind Tauriel for the past hour.”
“He didn’t receive much notice of that kind in the Blue Mountains,” Fíli frowned. “Mostly because of the beard issue.”
“It’ll come with time,” Bella declared, “He just needs to be patient.”
“We are speaking about Kíli, yes?”
“Point taken,” Bella shrugged. “Tauriel does not seem to care one way or another and she’s the one that he’s in love with. By the way, how’s Sigrid?”
Fíli looked at her suspiciously, “Fine. Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering, Nadad,” Bella responded in an innocent tone of voice. “You seem exponentially happier each time that you see her.”
Fíli blushed, which Bella had never seen him do before, nor had she imagined that she ever would, “I… er…”
“Have I upset you?” Bella worried.
“No… no,” Fíli assured her, lifting her into the air briefly as the music called for him to do, “It’s just that, well, I like her, rather a lot, actually.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Bella inquired.
“Hobbits live longer than Men, yes?” Fíli asked in response, his voice rough.
“Yes,” Bella agreed, nonplused by the abrupt query, “Particularly those of the Took bloodline, because they mixed so heavily with the Fae for so long before the Shire was settled; Fairy blood is a potent thing. My grandfather, the Old Took, lived to be almost two-hundred and fifty years old. My lifespan will, baring any unfortunate accidents, most likely match up with your uncle’s.”
Fíli seemed a bit mollified by that, but something was still wrong.
“Fee?” Bella prompted gently.
“She’ll die long before I do,” Fíli revealed sadly, and Bella winced internally at the despair in her brother’s voice.
“Or you could die tomorrow,” Bella said bluntly, causing Fíli to look at her with wide eyes. “None of us are guaranteed even a single minute more than we have already lived, Nadaduh. Do not spurn the gift Mahal has given to you out of fear; seventy years with her by your side is infinitely better than never having her at all.”
“I suppose it is foolish to argue with Bella Mira Dragonriddler, is it not?” Fíli remarked lightly, though Bella could see the thoughtfulness in his eyes.
“Indeed, it is, Fíli Lionsoul,” Bella rejoined, using his new epithet as easily as he had used hers. Thorin had surprised every member of the Company and Tauriel with them, honoring them for their courage in facing down Smaug.
The dance came to an end and Fíli escorted Bella over to Thorin and Balin before disappearing into the crowd.
“Is he alright?” Thorin asked in concern.
“He’s in love,” Bella replied simply.
“Aye,” Balin nodded sagaciously, “That’ll do it.”
“Dance with me?” Thorin requested of her, as an unhurried, almost haunting, melody began to fill the air.
Bella smiled and nodded, letting him lead her back out onto the dance floor to enjoy the only other Dwarven dance that she knew, one that was slower and more intimate that the last had been. Thorin had spent several nights since their reconciliation teaching the complex steps to her, holding her close and humming the tune in her ear.
“If Kíli does not stop looking so terrified,” Thorin murmured a minute later, “My sister will start making inappropriate threats.”
“Their interest in Kíli,” Bella spoke, referring to the Dwarrowdams who hovered near him and Tauriel, tittering in the former’s direction and bashing their eyelashes shamelessly at him, becoming bolder with each passing minute, “Is inappropriate.”
“Granted,” Thorin agreed.
“You need to do something,” Bella decided as one of the Dwarrowdams made a lewd suggestion in Iglishmêk that had Kíli turning scarlet and Tauriel stiffening visibly.
“I’m not the one who wove the tapestry,” Thorin stated.
“No, but you are the one who decided to hang it up where everyone could see it,” Bella retorted, “And the one who named Kíli Dragonsbane.”
“A bit of attention isn’t going to kill Kíli,” Thorin responded, far less concerned by the situation than Bella thought he ought to be.
“Thorin,” Bella said sharply, “That is not ‘a bit of attention’. They are callously disrespecting both your nephew and your future niece with their blatant, inapt flirting and they clearly do not care that they are obviously upsetting Kíli and Tauriel with their actions.”
“You’re right,” Thorin realized, grimacing as he looked harder and apparently caught sight of what Bella had seen, namely, even more vulgar Iglishmêk aimed in Kíli’s direction from the boldest of the four Dwarrowdams. “Their actions are bordering on illicit.”
Thorin guided her off the floor and over to Kíli and Tauriel, who both appeared to be immensely relieved and grateful for the backup. Thorin cast a fierce, quelling stare toward the Dwarrowdams, compelling them to curtsey hastily and then run off, their skirts hitched up, with only a single heated glance. It was impressive, of course, though Bella would have preferred to shout and threaten a bit if it had been her job to rescue Kíli and Tauriel. Thorin could not be seen behaving so discourteously toward the daughters of the lords that made up his lower council, who were already irritated enough at being on the lower council instead of the higher one as they had expected to be, no matter that the Dwarrowdams would definitely have deserved the incivility.
“Thank you, Idad,” Kíli breathed. “They kept following us around.”
“Next time, my sister-son,” Thorin advised, “Tell them that their behavior is unacceptable and unwanted. You are not bound, as Fíli and I are, to pay heed to your words when dealing with the nobility.”
“Wouldn’t it have just been easier if we had been allowed to pick which dwarves got to leave the Blue Mountains to come live here?” Kíli groused. “We did go to all the effort of reclaiming Erebor. I feel like there should have been a vote or something.”
A laugh rang out from Bella’s left and she turned to see a Dwarrowdam with dark silver hair, which was arranged in thick dreads that reached past her waist, smiling at them. There was a pair of much younger Dwarrowdams, both with thin mahogany braids and sporting green eyes, though in different shades, framed by copper masks, behind her.
“Lady Rehíla,” Thorin greeted, “How are you faring?”
“Much better now that I am home where I belong,” Lady Rehíla replied cheerfully, “There is still much work to be done to make Erebor as mighty as it once was, but we are dwarves, cut from stone with bones of iron, and so the work shall be done soon enough and Erebor will be as strong and beautiful as mithril.”
“That is a hope shared by all,” Thorin responded warmly, “Are these your granddaughters?”
“Yes,” Lady Rehíla answered, gesturing for the girls to step forward and curtsey, “My Lací and my Lucí, the daughters of Gudmun, my son.”
Lací and Lucí curtsied elegantly to Thorin, Bella, and Kíli, as was expected of them, and then did the same to Tauriel, which was not. Tauriel looked shocked at the respect afforded to her by the gesture. Few Dwarves, Bella knew, would bother even acknowledging Tauriel before she and Kíli were wed and she was legally considered a Princess of Erebor. They would have to bow to her then, or face the King’s wrath, but Bella did not imagine that all would be pleased about it. Tauriel had probably been resigned to only being liked by the Dwarves of the Company, their spouses, and children; she seemed to be unsure of herself in the face of Lací and Lucí’s warm, sincere grins.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bella told the young Dwarrowdams, approval coloring her tone, as Thorin and Kíli began to speak to their grandmother about the improvements being made to the numerous heated and chilled mineral pools, which were to be places for the people of Erebor to swim during all seasons.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Lací, who possessed the set of eyes that were hued jade, returned in a soft, sweet voice. “It’s lovely to meet you as well.”
“We’ve heard so many wonderful things about you, Lady Tauriel Starbow,” Lucí, whose eyes reminded Bella of sweet basil, announced excitedly before adding, “And about you too, of course, Princess.”
“Just ‘Tauriel’ is fine, Lady Lucí,” Bella’s sister requested.
“Oh, then you must call me ‘Lucí’, please,” Lucí implored. “Have you ever been to Rivendell? I quite wished to go, but Adad said that we couldn’t spare the time.”
“Once,” Tauriel answered, “When I was young.”
Bella focused on Lací as Lucí began to quiz Tauriel about the Valley of Imladris, “Lucí is your younger sister?”
“Yes,” Lací responded with clear fondness, “She is my sunshine, always so full of energy and curiosity.”
Bella regarded Tauriel for a moment, looking relaxed for the first time that evening as she told Lucí about Rivendell’s Hall of Fire, and thought that Lucí’s exuberance was no bad thing.
“I hope that your father is enjoying being back in Erebor,” Bella stated cordially. “Thorin told me that Lord Gudmun provided both money and food for the Quest, though he could not come himself because of his leg injury.”
“Oh, yes,” Lací nodded happily, “Adad is overjoyed to be back here, in the Mountain. I wish to thank you personally, Your Highness, for without your help, Erebor would have remained lost to us and Adad would not be so very content.”
“My friends call me ‘Bella’. I would very much like it if you did,” Bella offered.
Lací’s eyes lit up, “It would be an honor to do so, Bella.”
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Dori had many things to be thankful for on the twenty-fifth of October, the anniversary of the day that the Battle of the Five Armies had been won. So many souls had been lost during that terrible fight against the Orcs and Goblins, against the darkness that had threatened to consume all light that dared to stand in its path, but none of those whom had fallen in the defense of Erebor and Dale had been members of the Company. His precocious younger brothers, and his clever little sister, and his dearest friends had survived the day, had emerged from the shadow of war alive, if not quite whole. And that was something to celebrate, to thank Mahal for, even as he paid his respects to those who had perished during the course of the Battle.
The morning of the Memorial was passed in quiet, private contemplation, families gathering together in their homes to pay tribute to the fallen in their own ways. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield and their loved ones, inevitably perhaps, ended up converging in Bella’s sitting room. Bombur’s children ended up crowding the closest to their new auntie, whom they adored, listening as Bella told them stories from the Shire, most particularly one about Yavanna’s Fields and the Mountain Kingdom of Mahal which bordered the Green Lady’s lush meadows, and blossoming gardens, and babbling brooks on three sides, sheltering but not veiling the former.
Come two o’clock, people began to emerge from their houses and prepare for that evening’s feast. The copper lamps and great silver lanterns, which were mounted in each hallway and in the arches of the ceilings in every chamber in Erebor, that normally blazed bright at all times, night and day, had been put out, replaced by short, fat candles that sat upon the ground, lining every wall, and casting a soft, warm glow into every corner of the kingdom.
The Memorial Feast had been quite tasteful, with many speeches uttered and songs of remembrance sung to honor the venerated deceased. No hard liquors were drunk, the dwarves of Erebor contenting themselves with wine or cider to prevent any raucous behavior on this day. Supper was a simple fare of pork stew and bread made from the amaranth grain, a meal that the cooks had been able to prepare quickly in the few hours between the early afternoon and the feast.
The feast was long, but its late conclusion did not preclude the Company from reconvening in the Royal Parlor that night. They sat in clusters, taking comfort from one another, speaking softly as the fire from the hearth warmed them.
Bella wandered over to Dori after a bit, having changed out of the dark purple gown that she had donned earlier that afternoon and into one of her nightdresses, her hair lose except for the section plaited into her betrothal braid. She sat beside him and curled up against his side, laying her head against his shoulder.
“A part of me is extraordinarily glad right now,” Bella murmured, “Because everyone that I love survived the Battle. And then I become horrified with myself, because I remember that everyone who fell to the Orcs had family and friends of their own who will be mourning their loss all over again today.”
“It’s Survivor’s Guilt that you feel,” Dori patted Bella’s knee gently, “We all have it, my dear; it’s a natural reaction. But there is nothing wrong with being relieved that you and your loved ones emerged from the Battle alive, as long as you never forget those who did not.”
“I am quite certain that I never could,” Bella admitted, taking Dori’s hand into her own and Dori marveled at how such a tiny hand that seemed so very fragile to look at it could be so quick and strong when it needed to be, “So many perished that day and so many more were terribly injured. I cannot imagine anything worse than the death that was dealt during the fighting, but Thorin has told me that the Battle of Azanulbizar was just that.”
“It was, lassie, it was,” Balin spoke up, coming to sit in the chair across from them, looking, as all of them did, both solemn and relieved at once, “Six thousand Dwarrow marched for the East-gate of Moria and less than five-hundred left the Dimrill Dale when all was said and done. Fifteen thousand Orcs fell to Dwarven axes and hammers and swords, to be sure, but the cost was too high, lassie. If that was victory, then our hands were too small to hold it.”
Dori had not witnessed the Battle of Azanulbizar for himself, he had not been able to leave Nori, fifteen years past his coming of age but with a penchant for trouble that worried Dori deeply, or their sick, pregnant mother, who had barely managed to bring Ori into the world before passing on to the Halls of Mandos and the world beyond this one, but he remembered well the devastation writ upon the faces of every Dwarf that had returned to Ered Luin in the aftermath of it. He also recalled thinking to himself back then that the triumph, if it could even be called that, had not worth it. Thrór had charged upon Moria and the Orcs inhabiting it for the sake of what precious, (wanton), minerals were left within the once great kingdom of dwarrow, a cause that had certainly not seen Mahal’s blessing.
The Battle of the Five Armies had been a nightmare, to be sure, but Dori firmly believed that it could have been so much worse had Thorin not broken from the gold-madness in the eleventh hour, had he not rallied them all to fight, not for gold or gems, but for home and kin. That had made all the difference, had given them the spirit to fight against odds which had seemed insurmountable at the time and to win. The Line of Durin had endured and now the people of Erebor were home after so many decades of being displaced. The Battle had served one other purpose as well; it had reduced the number of Orcs in the world significantly, making it possible for nine valiant individuals to cross the Wildes without becoming overwhelmed by the foul creatures.
And Dori would forever be grateful for that.
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There was not a cloud to be found in the sky on the first day of the Festival of the Tri-Alliance. The sun shone down upon Dale, banishing the frigid temperatures that had marked the days preceding the beginning of the fête and replacing them with a breeze that was just cool enough to be considered pleasant when combined with the thick, luxurious robes that Ori had donned for the opening ceremonies. His silk doublet was blue and white and studded with sapphires and opals, the same as the nearly all the rest of the male members of the Company, including Thorin. Bella, Dís, Tauriel, Rína, and Gaela wore the same colors, though each of their dresses was shaped and patterned differently. It was a symbol of unification, one that had certainly made an impact, if only on Thranduil, whose eyes could not quite hide his sadness as he looked upon his niece.
Nori was the odd-Dwarf out, wearing non-descript colors in a generic pattern, but then, Ori’s brother wasn’t standing with the rest of their family; he was perched up in a high, secret place, where none could see him but where he could see everyone, on the lookout for any unsavory characters. After all, the Dwarves who had sold Bella out to the Master had still not been discovered. Nori was rather irritated about that particular fact, actually, had spent half of an hour lamenting it as they dressed that morning.
Three kings stood together upon an elevated stone platform, which had carvings of eagles and bears sprawled across it, representing their peoples. It was Bard who spoke to the three kingdoms gathered, having been chosen to do so by virtue of the fact that everyone else had swiftly come to the conclusion, months and months earlier, that neither Thorin nor Thranduil should ever be allowed to speak in so public a place as Dale’s Great Square while in such close proximity to one another, lest they say the wrong thing, accidentally on purpose, and spark yet another feud twixt Erebor and Mirkwood.
Ori had his pen at the ready, poised over thick, ivory parchment, so that he could transcribe every word of the King of Dale’s speech.
“Good morn, all!” King Bard began, his countenance grim but his tone passionate as he spoke, “Welcome to this, the first annual Festival of the Tri-Alliance, a carnival to celebrate the pact of peace and camaraderie that allows Elves, Dwarves, and Men to stand together, to live, to work, to laugh, to fight, and to love in harmony.
“When the Tri-Alliance Accords were signed, a year ago today, a promise between three kings was forged; it was an oath, not just meant for one another but for our kingdoms as well. For kingdoms are not stagnant, lifeless things. They breathe, and live, and grow as the years pass. They blossom with their people and shall wither with them too, for a kingdom can only be as great as the citizens that inhabit it. And just as each individual person needs loyal companionship to thrive, so does every kingdom need dependable allies to truly prosper. The Tri-Alliance is a reflection of this truth- that Dale, Erebor, and the Greenwood are stronger together than they ever could be apart. It was only because we fought together, a year ago, that our peoples and kingdoms prevailed against the evil that sought to destroy us all.
“The Battle of the Five Armies put us to the test in a myriad of ways, not the least of which was whether we could find the strength within ourselves to cast aside the old prejudices that had swayed our hearts and minds for so long and learn to see each other in a new light, see that, despite our differences, we are all the children of the Valar. We did so a year ago and we must continue to do so as the ages pass, for only by trusting in one another shall we be able to ward off those who would seek to bring our kingdoms to ruin.
“This alliance, utterly vital though it is to us all, very nearly did not come to be. Intolerance and avarice almost brought us to ruin but, by the grace of the Valar, we were reminded of that which is truly important in this life- our families, our friends, our homes. And that reminder came in the form of a brave and kind Hobbit, who gave away a fortune immeasurable in exchange for one thing only, that we agree to fight, not as three groups divided, but as one mighty whole. We owe the Sunrise Princess our gratitude for that and for her courage in facing the Enemy; we always shall.”
Ori watched as Bella’s cheeks and neck flushed rose; she despised being singled out. Ori could hardly blame her as he was hardly fond of such things either; he’d been afraid that he was going to throw up when Thorin had called him forward and declared him, ‘Battlescribe’, during the Day of Dragon’s Reckoning Festival. Fíli and Kíli must have noticed Bella’s reaction too because they each took one of her hands into one of their own and let her fingers grip theirs tightly, calming her mild distress.
“Over the next three and a half days,” Bard continued unflinchingly, “I implore each and every single one of you to remember that while we may not share the same blood, while our customs may differ, our hopes and dreams are not so dissimilar and that discord cannot be sown into open hearts, for it needs suspicion and insularity in order to cultivate and fester within our souls. Take this opportunity to get to know your neighbors and learn something new. Do not squander this hard-won peace; instead, honor those who gave their lives for it and do something great with it. Feast, laugh, play, and make merry and do it together.”
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A veritable mélange of booths lined the Great Square on all four sides, selling all kinds of sugary concoctions, Bella was especially fond of the delicate meringue twists filled with sweet cream, and roasted meats, such as mouthwatering orange-glazed goose, and frothy beverages, like the apple buttermilk she had so enjoyed. Not all the stalls sold food and drink, some featured games, where one could win little trinkets as prizes, and others offered things like palm-reading and quick-portraits, the latter of which Ori was helping to manage.
Just outside of Dale’s Great Square were several enclosed pastures, one of which served as a place for young children to receive pony rides and the other two were put to use as arenas for the many contests that had been arranged to take place during the fête. Already, the wrestling and spear-throwing competitions were in progress; Dwalin had, so far, wiped the floor with every opponent he had faced in the former and Bifur’s accuracy with his boar spear was unrivalled.
There were challenges with more domestic natures as well, baking, cooking, fishing, weaving, and embroidery contests, to name a few. Bella spent a full two hours entertaining a large gaggle of children with a riddle contest that she had come up with on the spot.
There were short skits in Dale’s theatre house, elaborate puppet shows in windows, colorful jesters singing and juggling on street corners, and beautiful ribbon-dancers leaping and spinning around in the lanes. There was storytelling too, on the steps of Bard’s palace, located in the very center of the city. Bella, Fíli, Kíli, Tauriel, and Sigrid all took turns telling stories. Bella told tales of monstrous Trolls, which was a favorite amongst the little ones, and the Ents who served as the shepherds for the old forests of the world.
It was nearing tea time when Bella, flanked by Arnura and Arníra, who refused to allow her out of their sight for even a single moment, ran into Lací just outside the embroidery pavilion, where dozens of hand-sewn designs were being displayed.
“Bella,” Lací greeted warmly, “It’s so wonderful to see you again.”
“I’m glad to see you as well, Lací,” Bella replied, “I was heading to go find some proper tea, would you care to join me.”
“I would love that,” Lací responded.
“Did you enter the embroidery contest?” Bella asked as they walked back toward the Great Square.
“I did,” Lací answered, “I won a quarter-bolt of vanilla-colored silk for my sea turtle design.”
“I saw your design. It was so beautiful, almost ethereal,” Bella praised, “Have you ever visited the sea?”
“Thank you, Bella, and yes, I went several times to the western sea when I was young,” Lací revealed, “My Amad adored the sea and so Adad took us as often as he could. Have you ever been?”
“No,” Bella grinned wryly, “Hobbits and water do not mix well. I cannot swim, something my brothers and our King find utterly lamentable, I assure you. I’m certain that once the construction on the mineral pools has been completed, they’ll seek to rectify that fact.”
“It is easiest to learn in salt water,” Lací offered, “Because the salt makes the water denser and easier to float in. I believe that Umad told me that the smallest of the seven mineral pools, the Emerald Pool, had the most salt in it. You may find it simplest to begin your lessons in there as opposed to one of the others; it’s one of the four heated pools too, so you will not have to worry about becoming chilled as winter settles in.”
“Thank you, that’s a wonderful idea and…” Bella trailed off as something up high caught her attention by glinting bright in the sunlight. She looked up to see a Dwarf upon a nearby roof, notching an arrow into the bow in his hand; two other Dwarrow stood behind him, looking fanatically determined about what they were doing. Bella followed the arrow’s current trajectory and found herself looking directly at Thorin, who was standing by the stage speaking with Balin and Dís, completely unaware of the danger he was in. “No. Oh, in the name of Eru, no.”
She was too far away to garner Thorin’s attention through gesturing and it was much too loud for her to be heard by him at this distance, even if she’d screamed. And so Bella ran, abandoning Lací and her bodyguards without hesitation, weaving her way through the crowd until she reached her betrothed, placing herself in front of his person protectively.
“Thorin, get down!” Bella managed to gasp out in alarm before the arrow, because it had to be the damned arrow, slammed into her back, into her right shoulder, with a force so great that it knocked her straight into Thorin’s arms.
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Translations
- Ghivashel – Treasure of all Treasures; Beloved
- Emùzel Emnithaz – Chamber of Cheer
- Adad – Father
- Amad – Mother
- Idad – Uncle
- Imad – Aunt
- Umad – Grandmother
- Namad – Sister
- Namadith – Little Sister
- Namaduh – My Sister
- Nadad – Brother
- Nadaduh – My Brother
- Nadadith – Little Brother